


Skin

by cadkitten



Category: Dir en grey
Genre: Angst, M/M, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-01
Updated: 2011-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:54:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's off inside me, slightly off kilter. Like a peg put one hole off to the side from where it belongs. Today, I feel like the day looks; bleak and dreary. I should by all rights be ecstatic, but I'm not and despite trying to be, it just won't happen. On these days, I find myself wondering if maybe I've slid back into that old hole, that place of such pain. Where will it end and what will it take? Only time will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERING CONTENT  
> I'd like to say that I know this will confuse some people. It's intentionally vague in places, left to let your own mind fill in the blanks rather than me doing it for you. I'm skirting some huge issues in here and I know I'm taking a risk by even posting it. But when inspiration strikes like this, I won't just let it drift by. If you take any offense whatsoever to things like self-harm, please stay away from this story. Just close the page and leave. And just as a cover-my-own-butt statement... no, I do not think this is in any way the _real_ Kyo and Die. This is a _story_ and nothing more. Hence the words "I do not claim any of this to be truthful" in the disclaimer.  
>  Beta Readers: gothic_hime, kismekilmeluvme  
> Song[s]: "Skin" by Sixx:A.M.

Something's off inside me, slightly off kilter. Like a peg put one hole off to the side from where it belongs. Today, I feel like the day looks; bleak and dreary. The rain traces down the window, each drop connecting with the next until it rushes down to the bottom and disappears from sight. The sky overhead is grey, not a single speck of blue in what was once a bright blue sky. It looks as I feel. It has found the pain that I managed to push away for years and brought it to the surface.

I find myself wondering if maybe I've slid back into that old hole, that place of such pain. I find myself staring out the window for hours on end, waiting and watching, expecting something more to come of this mess called life. But the truth is, I find that life is painful.

My gaze slips to my arms and then to my chest, partially revealed by the loose shirt I'm wearing today. I can still see the scars, the part of me that I had shared with the world... and the part of me that I never did. They called it a show, saw it as a part of the act. But they never felt the pain and the violence inside my soul. They never felt the pain that I did, they never saw the way I crumbled after the show... and more they never noticed the extra lines.

When it comes right down to it, I never let anyone see the real me. I hid myself from them and showed them the part that they could write off as something else. I let them believe whatever it was that they wanted and no matter how many times I wrote out the truth, pushed it into solid words, I never found the courage to show it to the right people in my life... the ones that could - and surely would - have helped.

And today, sitting here and staring at myself, I find that even I myself have judged me. I've judged every scar I've put upon my body and I've found myself unworthy of each thing I've ever wanted. Even with success at my fingertips, I've found every flaw and picked it apart to the very core. Everyone thinks success is happiness. But once you're there, you understand that it's not. Unless you're happy with yourself, unless you truly love who you are, then nothing can ever fall into place in your life. And I... well, I have never been happy with who I am. I'm not sure I ever will be. I know where the truth lies, but I can't quite reach out to grasp it.

I stand, my legs reacting on their own, my hands following in succession, pulling my shirt free of my body, revealing the truth to the water-speckled glass. Revealing it to the world. The rest follows, showing the part that no one else has ever seen. The scars that reveal the truth, that contain the very essence of the problem that has consumed me for almost four years.

My palms press to the window, my head bowed and tears in my eyes. I stay that way, standing there for almost half an hour before I hear it: the sound of a key in the lock. I know who it is and I know I should cover myself up. But the truth of the matter is, I'm done. I've come to the end of my rope and all I want is someone to share the truth with. Someone to care.

We've been living together for near four months. Nothing romantic or even remotely sexual. It's just that I knew I couldn't be alone anymore. I knew I was slipping toward being a danger to myself. And so, I made up the excuse I knew Die would buy and offered it up to him along with half the rent and utilities. He took it as I knew he would and took me in without hesitation.

Honestly, it put me in a place to learn that I wasn't all that alone. Die has his own secrets, his own things that he thinks I don't notice or hear, but I do. I've spent most of my life watching and listening rather than talking and doing. I won't tell him I know and I'll never tell him I see. But I try to help in my own little ways, as any good friend would.

A few moments pass and I hear him put his stuff down in all his usual places. I hear his boots hit the floor and then I hear the door finally shut and lock. Footsteps on the carpet and then utter silence. But I can feel him. I know he's staring at me and I can almost see the look on his face without ever looking back at him. Confusion, slight shock, even a tinge of fear. And then his voice, soft as silk, "Kyo?"

I don’t even move, my hands still pressed to the window, my clothing in a pile at my feet and my skin bare to the world. I wait. I don’t have to for long, because after a few moments, he comes to me, moving to stand next to me and put his warm hand on my back. "Kyo?" he asks again, this time following it up with an uncertain, "Are you okay?"

The tears fall to the carpet like two little missiles, plopping down like duds. My heart tugs in my chest and I just back away from the window, turning and spreading my arms, showing him the world... showing him the truth. I don't have to open my eyes to know he's looking, to know where his eyes linger and where they do not. And when his touch comes again, it's the only thing that could surprise me. His hands frame my face and his lips touch mine for the smallest of seconds. His forehead presses to mine and he whispers out, "You're beautiful," before he lets me go and walks away. I can hear his footsteps as he retreats to the kitchen and then I can hear the rattle of the tea kettle as he sets it up and fills it with water, putting it on the stove to heat.

By the time it's whistling, I've at least put my underwear back on. I come into the kitchen, moving to stand next to him and watching him prepare two cups of tea. Wordlessly, he hands one to me, his hand coming to gently brush over my cheek before he moves away, going back to the living room and settling on the couch.

The minutes tick by and eventually, I speak up, only half of a question coming out before he stops me. "You saw, but why didn't-"

"I'd never judge you," he tells me, his words so matter-of-fact that I know they have to be honest. "Besides... I've known for years, Kyo." He places his cup down on the table and turns to look at me, his eyes deadly serious. "I'm far from blind. I also know why you came to me... and why you're here."

I stare at him for a long moment and I realize somewhere in my heart, I already knew the truth. I already knew why it was him I could come to and why it wasn't one of the others. Because some part of me knew his secrets before I confirmed them and some part of me understood that with him, I was safe.

"I played your game," he simply states, shrugging his shoulders a little, "and you played mine. We both know why we ended up here together." He studies me for a long moment. "And if you're near as bright as I think you are, you know exactly why my home is open to you."

My mind rakes over the words, fumbling with them for a long few moments before I finally let out a few of my own. "You love me." It's not a question, it's a statement of fact. One I've known for years and avoided because I couldn't quite figure out how to deal with it.

"I do." There's no denial, no skirting the issue. "And I'll never push you to love me back. I know that's not how it is. But I'm okay with that." He gives me this little smile that I now realize has always been his way of showing me the truth without having to say a word. "I just want to be here for you when you need me."

The words slip free from my mouth without a second thought. "You don’t have to push me. You never have." Almost as a secondary thought, I add on, "I'm here as much for you as for me." And when I look at him again, it's surprise I catch in his eyes a split second before he masks it, reaching for his tea to cover his reaction. "You can see the real me... and no matter how much you think you're hiding it, I can see the real you just as clear."

He studies me for a long moment and then downs the rest of his tea, putting the cup back down. I've left mine in the kitchen, unconcerned with tea for the time being, though I know he made it out of nerves and half for me. When his words come, they do not surprise me. "We can't. I won't."

I can only shrug, leaving him to his opinion on the matter. I wasn't asking for anything and I think he knows it. The problem is, he wants more and he's trying to convince himself otherwise. My head falls back on the couch and I close my eyes. It's quiet for a few minutes and then I feel his hand over my own, his fingers tangling with mine. "I've been taking-" I cut him off, "I know." He sighs and then moves closer to me, curling up at my side. "And I've been seeing-" again, I cut him off, "I know."

There's silence beside me for a long moment and then his hand squeezes my own. "You're more observant than I give you credit for." I offer him a little lopsided smile and open one eye to peer up at him. He's not even looking at me, his eyes on that window and on the world outside, coated in grey. "I think that goes for both of us."

For almost an hour, that's the last thing we say to one another, just sitting and feeling the presence of one another, understanding that we both have an anchor to reality, a reason to keep ourselves afloat if nothing else. And by the time I'm drifting off, I understand that _this_ is why I came to him. I knew how he felt and I came because he cared. I came because _I_ cared.

**The End**  



End file.
